


Moving On?

by dragongoats



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dry Sex, F/F, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Semi-Public Sex, artwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3546167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongoats/pseuds/dragongoats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Inquisitor Adaar reflects on her breakup with Sera and their time together, she is reminded of a past lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On?

**Author's Note:**

> Past Sera x Inquisitor Adaar, Past Adaar x OC
> 
> I really wanted to see two lady Qunari get it on!
> 
> UPDATE: Added some art of the two :)

A cool breeze of the early morning drifted through the slightly open windows. Inquisitor Herah Adaar sat at her desk, a quill in hand, scribbling along the edges of scout reports and missives. A cup of black coffee sat untouched, steaming along side her, acting more as a paperweight than anything else.

Adaar's mind was elsewhere as she read and re-read the same paragraph, mouth forming the words she wanted to write, a small frown creasing her face.

She finally sat back with a curse, dropping her pen. A sudden flash of anger coursed through her as she remembered how she had left things with Sera the day before. It was over, they were done. She had said as much and Sera had just—

Adaar stood abruptly with a growl, walking quickly to the balcony and looking out into the cold, isolated mountains.

— Sera had just acted the way she always did, taking nothing seriously, but it was the lack of respect for her that had really pushed her over the edge.

Adaar reflected that perhaps it was just her fooling herself, that she could have expected her to change. From the moment she saw her it was about sex between them. Perhaps every encounter she had previously had with anyone had just been about sex. Well— sex or pleasure or comfort— something for the then, nothing permanent.

She could blame that on being a merc, always moving around, or on who she was, a Qunari in a land of humans, elves and dwarves. But in Skyhold, she had respect, her companions' trust and the opportunity for more. And even so, she jumped into the arms of the first person who showed her the slightest hint of interest, just as she always did— no consideration for where it might lead, no consideration for what she might truly want.

She supposed she should have discussed this with Sera, but communication was never easy for her. She had spent most of her life swinging a sword around to solve her problems, which had done little in the way of providing opportunities to improve on those skills.

But despite how things ended, Adaar looked back on her time together with some fondness, her mind flicked back to times in the field, camping and she felt her anger ebbing. Those heated looks in camp while eating, discussing strategy, like she couldn't wait to get her alone in the tent. Sera, all eager hands and soft lips, exploring and tasting her. It had been a totally unique experience with her, she never seemed to run out of energy.

Sera's sense of humour often caught her by surprise, her mind backpeddling rapidly to make sense of what had tumbled from her lips. Those times when she made Blackwall blush, describing peaches, or even the silly pranks they had played on her advisors had been a welcome distraction from the days troubles. It made the weight of the world feel less, and for a while that had been enough.

Adaar headed back inside, shutting the doors behind her, keeping out the chill air. She sat down at her desk again, reaching for her coffee, her mind wandering to a memory of them together in bed several weeks ago—

 

_Sera had been giggling, rambling about something, completely naked in her bed. Adaar had been resting quietly, considering the rest of her day. Then Sera rolled over and ran her hands along her curled horns and along her pointed ears._

_"So..." Her voice trembled with laughter. "Have you ever got tangled in another Qunari's horns? While you were... you know." She snorted and fell back, giggling again._

_Adaar had stayed silent, merely let out a quiet laugh— shaking her head— and stood from the bed, leaning over to dress herself._

_While the idea of being somehow awkwardly tangled with another pair of horns had been an amusing mental image, right at that moment, Adaar's mind focused on a memory from several years ago. When she had crossed paths with another Qunari, a rare enough thing outside of her family._

*

It had been sort of like a dance between them, noticing each other while training, a few stolen glances at mealtime, at water breaks. But they were rarely close, their merc bands trained separately but in the same area.

Adaar found that her gaze lingering on her in the crowd—dragging along sweat glistening skin, following the smooth movements of her sword— how her sweat dampened clothes clung to her muscles as they shifted.

She had spent so much time amongst humans and elves, she marvelled at the sheer size difference her people had. The other Qunari was larger, like her, but it was still impressive how she held and swung the two handed great sword like it weighed nothing. There was a certain fluidity, elegance—and cockiness to her movements.

One day, while Adaar watched her training, the Qunari caught her eye and winked, making her flush and feel uncomfortable, having been caught staring. The rest of the day, she had tried a bit harder to focus on her own training, but it was difficult. The sound of her rich, throaty laugh—one she used while taunting her opponent—would drift to her ears, causing her to shiver.

During that evening, like so many, the mercs were spending their time unwinding in the Tavern. Both merc bands were lost in their cups— singing loudly, off-key— the occasional person who would fall over, followed by a loud cheer, mugs clinking, ale sloshing, and then the singing would begin again. Adaar stood, as she usually did, leaning up against a darker corner, observing the room, but not taking part in it.

She was sober, as she so often was, preferring there to be at least one person who was able to walk straight and swing a sword, should the worst happen. She folded her arms and let out a sigh, trying to relax enough to at least enjoy the idiocy of her companions, likely she was being over cautious but it was a hard habit to break.

Movement from her periphery made her on edge, and her mind snapped to attention, body reacting, hand drifting to her sword hilt.

"Easy, there. It's supposed to be a party, you know." The voice was low and calm, slightly throaty, tinged with amusement, and when Adaar glanced at the other person, she noticed they held a smug smirk on their face.

Adaar relaxed her hands, feeling flushed. Of course it was the Qunari from before, the one she had been admiring from afar, the one she had not said a word to. The Qunari with the dusky skin covered with freckles, with the enticing curves and muscular arms and thighs, who swung a huge slab of metal like it was a feather. The Qunari that she had imagined a thousand times pushing her against a wall and kissing her—her strong grip and calloused fingers dragging down her body.

The Qunari had stepped close— in order to be heard over the din of the room— Adaar's eyes drifted to her lips, watching her wet them with her tongue.

"I saw you watching me train—" The Qunari trailed off, flashing her a grin.

Adaar laughed quietly, almost awkwardly, uncertain of herself. Uncertain of how to handle this building heat in her, the coil of nerves.

The Qunari continued, raising an eyebrow, baiting her, "—did you like what you saw?"

Adaar let out a strangled noise low in her throat and nodded. "Yes." She said in a rush, searching the other's face, looking for some sign that she was feeling this connection between them too.

The Qunari curled her full lips up into an almost feral grin, rounding on her. She hummed, looking pleased. "Mmm. And what specifically did you find so appealing?"

Adaar groaned. She would almost have said the other was acting coy, if not for the low, seductive tones she was using— the way she was almost prowling over to her, the intense look in her eyes.

The room seemed to grow quiet, the drunken roars and cheers drowned out. All she could do was focus on her—the way the light reflected off her lips, the heat of her body—her lips so close they were almost kissing. Her breath warm against her as she spoke. "You are stunning, you know that?"

Heat pulsed down low in her gut, coiling. She felt herself on the edge, the delicious feeling of anticipation before one of them took the first step. The thrill of being in a room full of people, when all she wanted was to melt into her embrace, when they should really be somewhere private.

"What's your name? You may call me Herah." It seemed proper to ask, as cloudy as her mind was. Her voice sounded slightly breathless and she mentally cursed.

The Qunari smiled, pulling back slightly to look at her. "I'm Brier. I'm very pleased to meet you."

Adaar laughed gently at the smug intonation. "As am I." She smiled back, thrilling as Brier brought her hand to the back of her neck and pulled her closer, closing the gap, their lips meeting.

The kiss was gentle at first— both tasting, testing, exploring— then it grew more heated. Adaar sliding her tongue into Brier's mouth, earning her a low moan in appreciation, the grip on the back of her neck tightening.

They broke away briefly, minds hazy, trying to catch their breaths. Adaar looked around quickly, determining that a moment stolen away would be fine, and began to walk into a back room, pulling Brier with her.

Brier caught on quickly, a larger smile reaching her face. "I like how you think."

*  
The dimly lit back room was cooler and quieter, away from the din of the main tavern. The bard's lilting voice from upstairs drifting down to their ears, the cheers only a dull roar. All Adaar could hear was the sound of her heartbeats, their shared quickening breaths.

Brier leaned back against the cool stone wall, her hips cocked at an enticing angle, her eyes following Adaar as she approached her. From this close she could see the chips in her horns, the ragged scar along her cheek and neck. Her eyes, grey with flecks of green, her face with traces of laugh lines.

Adaar felt a bit breathless—trying to wrap her head around how beautiful she looked—leaning in, running her thumb along her cheekbone, tracing the lines of her face. She kissed her nose, her cheeks, along the trail of freckles dotting her face. Brier scrunched up her nose and let out a grunt of surprise at the tender attention. Laughing, she wrapped her arms around Brier, pulling her close and kissed her again, mouths clashing, arms griping her shoulders.

The loose tunic Brier wore clung to her curves in all the right places, and Adaar ran her hands under the soft material, feeling the heated skin, palms sliding along the smooth curve of her belly and hips, fingers pressing into the ridges of muscle underneath.

Brier groaned when Adaar cupped her bound breasts, thumb running lightly along her breastband, teasing her nipples, feeling them harden. Brier griped the curve of her horns and pulled her closer, kissing her hard, tongue slipping between her lips, sliding against hers, eliciting a strangled moan from Adaar, as she kissed her back with equal fervour.

Brier kissed the side of Adaar's mouth, biting her lip, then soothing with several kisses. Adaar's breathing came out in ragged gasps, Brier's hands exploring and griping her hips hard, drifting down to her lower back, her ass, her thighs, slipping a leg between hers, letting her grind against her.

Adaar moaned, pushing harder to get more friction and pressure, rolling her hips against the hard muscle of her thigh— kissing abandoned, panting. She almost tore at Brier's shirt, fingers pulling at the breast band until it came off, growling in frustration, pleasure, want.

Brier laughed. A deep throaty, wonderful laugh that sent a shiver through Adaar, making her sex ache pleasurably.

"Shit." She cursed. Her entire body buzzing, pulsing with want. She could barely think clearly. This woman's curves, her heated flesh, her taste on her tongue—

Adaar was not usually one to beg but Maker help her, she might just have to start.

She rolled her hips again, her mouth sliding down to suck on the full breast, the exposed nipple, biting the sensitive flesh until it pebbled, licking and kissing in apology when Brier hissed, her hand gently holding her head in place.

Adaar continued to pleasure Brier— tongue teasing circling her nipple, sucking on the flushed skin of her breast, lapping up beads of sweat, enjoying her taste, her smell. Soon the smirk on her face was gone—replaced instead by an expression of pure pleasure— her mouth slightly open, lips moist and slightly swollen from her kisses. The hands on her backside and thighs squeezed her hard, making her moan. What should have been painful morphing into an incredible electric heat, pooling low in her.

Adaar paused—she heard voices, steps coming by—her lips and tongue regretfully leaving Brier's skin. She smiled when Brier's body moved with her, chasing her touch, a quiet frustrated sound leaving her throat.

When the steps receded, Adaar continued, running her hand up Brier's muscular thigh, squeezing her before palming her heated sex. Rolling her hips in return, Brier closed her eyes and bite her lower lip, she sounded almost breathless, missing the assured confident tone of before. "Maker..."

Brier's stronger arms pulled her in, nipples dragging on her clothes, lips dragging on her neck, gasping against her skin as Brier dipped her hand down to cup her sex— the friction was intoxicating, wonderful— she was so wet, she could feel herself slipping against her smalls.

The delicious coil of heat in her kept building, she felt so close—and from the blissful look of the other, it appeared so was she. Adaar's own hips mimicked the roll of Briers, their breathing sped up. Brier soon began making quiet noises of pleasure mixed with breathless curses. Her other hand gripping her neck. pulling her in for a searing kiss as she came around her hand, hips jerking, a low groan escaping her throat.

Adaar watched her come undone and groaned in sympathy, her sex pulsing in want for release, her face felt hot, but she paused, stilling her movements until Brier came down, stroking and petting her, placing gentle kisses along her neck and lips.

Brier's breathing slowed slightly and she leaned over, her hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh of Adaar's neck, her husky voice rasped in her ear, "Come for me." It was almost a growl, the words sending another thrill through her, making her groan. Brier replaced her hand with her thigh again, pulling Adaar's body along her, letting her ride her, letting her set the pace.

Adaar dropped her head to Brier's shoulder, kissing her collarbone and junction of her neck, breathing in deeply, she smelled faintly of sweat, soap, leather, a combination of smells both familiar and because they were on her, intensely arousing. Brier's hand slide along her back to grip her ass, another hand moving to cup her breast.

Adaar soaked in the sensations, the feel of her against her, and rolled her hips a few more times, enjoying the slick slide and friction against her sex, the coiling pleasure building, threatening to spill over. She wanted to draw it out, enjoy this moment, but Maker, she was close.

Her breaths came out in small pants. "Shit." She gasped out the curse, too wrapped up in the feeling of Brier's warmth and her own pleasure to keep quiet, to communicate anything beyond that harsh word.

Brier cupped her jaw with her hand, rubbing the back of her neck gently. Adaar's hips stuttered and she bit her lip, harder than she intended to as she came, the flood of warmth coursing through her body, pulsing, vision going white.

She collapsed against Brier with a sigh, wrapping her arms around her, rather than attempting to stand on unsteady legs.

"I got ya." Brier chuckled, her warm voice sending another shiver down Adaar's back, her sex throbbed weakly in response. She ran her hand along her, holding her close, rubbing her back. Adaar kissed her gently, tasting her swollen lips, letting out small sighs as she felt herself come down from her high, her breathing returning to normal, her strength returning.

She let out a sigh. "I won't see you again, will I?" Adaar didn't really need to ask, but she had said it anyway.

The other Qunari let out a low, throaty laugh, her hand cupping her face and running a thumb along her cheekbone. "Unlikely, considering our line of work. But this was lovely, truly. You are simply stunning."

Adaar flushed at the compliment and pulled her close again, kissing her again, several more times, in fact, enjoying her just because she could.

**

Adaar put her pen down, ignoring her body that was reacting to the memory. She laughed to herself, Sera would have been disappointed in that story, no tangled horns or anything.

She frowned.

Brier.

She never did see her again, she idly wondered where she was, if she had escaped the war. Most likely she was still around, swinging that giant sword around, taunting her enemies with a cocky smirk and a laugh.

Perhaps she was just best suited for a life of duty and battle, loving and leaving, brief but passionate memorable encounters. She had tried more with Sera, it hadn't worked.

Cursing, Adaar left her quarters, considering a bit of sparring with Cassandra might help clear up all this self doubt, anger—and now sexual frustration.

As she made her way down the stairs, a scout intercepted her, a small letter in her hand, only offering the note and a "Message for you, Ser." before she bowed quickly and hurried away.

Adaar looked down at the message, eye brows raising in surprise. It was short, written quickly, with none of the author's characteristically vulgar imagery.

 

_I'm sorry._

_— Sera_


End file.
